Mage's Plight
by Sir Gilbert the Frank
Summary: A lone warrior braves the depths of the Marsh Cave, but at what price?


_Mage's Plight_

by: Sir Gilbert the Frank

A short man in a red cloak huddles over his make-shift campfire. It's raining vigorously and only his wide-brimmed red cap is keeping the elusive raindrops from smearing his face. He shivers and breathes a cloud of warm breath over his pale fingertips.

"It's almost time." He murmurs to himself.

The man waves his hand around and small icicles form around his fingertips. He closes his eyes in concentration and the icicles grow larger and larger. As he opens his eyes, the ice flows off his fingertips and smothers the fire out, leaving a small trail of smoke in its wake.

"The elves said the herbs are at the bottom of the cave."

He grabs his brown sack and marches out into the soggy marshland. With each step, he can feel his boots dig deeper and deeper into that muddy pile of death. How many unfortunate travelers have perished in their depths?

"I hope I'm not walking on top of anyone I know." He smiles.

He sees a large cave covered in moss in the distance. It seems as if the cave is gasping for air, barely keeping it's head above death's tender stew. As he approaches the cave's mouth, a group of ghouls appear from under his feet.

"Nope. I don't know you. Well, now I'll know whether that fire spell I bought will come in handy."

The mage spreads his arms far apart and starts murmuring an intelligible incantation. The ghouls stomp closer and closer, but the mage doesn't break his concentration. Suddenly, sparks of flame start surrounding his wrists and he claps his hands together. A small torrent of flame flies towards the party of ghouls and burns their putrefying flesh away.

"Looks like I missed one."

The ghoul who survived the mage's spell grabs his arms and starts gnawing fiercely. His rotting teeth puncture the mage's red cloth and he tears of a piece of fabric with one yank of his head exposing a set of rusty chain mail armor underneath. The mage uses this opportunity to pull out his glimmering silver sword. He swings his sword over his head to gain momentum and slashes at the ghoul's face, splitting his head in half.

"I'm running out of time."

The mage rushes into the cave. He quickly lights a torch and notices that there are several pathways leading in every direction. He looks to his north, or so he thinks, and then he turns his head southward.

"They all look the same. The elf said to take the southern path. That's where the herb grows, supposedly."

The man presses on. His long black hair and mustache are covered in ash and mud. After what seems to be like an eternity, he stops in front of a set of steps that lead downward. He looks back and pauses.

"Am I being followed? No matter. I have to find that herb. For Lizzie's sake."

The more he walks inward, the more steps behind him he seems to hear. He quickens his pace, focusing on reaching the end of the cave as soon as possible. He stops and looks around. There are tunnels leading in all directions!

"No! More tunnels!"

In despair, he picks the closest tunnel and runs in that direction. The dripping of the mud on the walls and the pattering of his footsteps are maddening. More footsteps start echoing throughout the cave.

"I think that's it!"

A glimmer of hope enters the man's heart when he sees a patch of blue ferns growing at the end of the tunnel. He opens his leather pouch and grabs as many herbs as he can fit in it. He closes his pouch and smiles.

"Yes! With these, I can save her!"

The mage turns around and starts walking back when a couple of greasy skeletons start running in his direction, wailing and moaning in agonizing tones. The red mage pulls out his sword and starts swinging in every direction. He manages to get through them and runs as fast as he can.

"See ya!"

He runs back towards the intersection, but he can't remember where he came from. More noises start echoing in every direction. He picks a tunnel randomly and starts running in that direction.

"No!"

He runs into another intersection with tunnels leading in four directions! Fierce wailing can be heard throughout. He turns to his right and sees ghouls pouring out in his direction. He turns to his left. Blue ravenous ghosts fly in his direction. To his south. Skeletons. North. Gargoyles!

"Ugh!"

The red mage starts chanting spells rapidly. He throws fireballs at the zombies. The ghosts feel the wrath of his ice spells. The skeletons get a blade full of steel. He saves his lightning spells for the gargoyles.

"There we g-"

More monsters start pouring out of the tunnels. The red mage is running out of options. He pulls out his silver dagger and braces himself for the fight to come.

"For Lizzie's sake I, Mathius, will not fail."

Mathius closes his eyes and crosses his blades. He sings a small chant to cure his wounds. With a blade in each hand and his loved one in his thoughts, he rushes northwards, fighting valiantly. Howls echo throughout the cave. The fowl beasts want their share of flesh and they want it now.

Droves upon doves of enemies fling upon the mage's body. Their claws rip through his chain mail violently. They shred it bit by bit, the chain rings falling like grapes off a vine.

The red mage casts his strongest spells which light up the room in hues of red, yellow, and blue. The Monsters fall and more come to replace them. Mathius yells in despair. He knows that he can't kill them all, but the red mage presses onward. Onward through the sea of death.

"Lizzie. Looks like we're both taking that trip."


End file.
